


Elysium

by GayMentality



Category: Little Witch Academia
Genre: Aged Up, F/F, Fluff, Introspection, It's a lot of fluff and like no plot but it's gay so ya'll gonna deal, Post canon, and married!!, married au, they're teachers in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24125911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayMentality/pseuds/GayMentality
Summary: Coming home to your wife is a sacred thing.
Relationships: Diakko (mentioned), Hannah England & Amanda O'Neill, Hannah England/Amanda O'Neill
Comments: 5
Kudos: 59





	Elysium

Coming home to your wife is a sacred thing- not everybody gets the pleasure of tumbling into bed every night, just to lay beside the only person who’s ever made you question your nontheistic nature. She was the sun, the moon, and the stars- though, maybe not Earth’s moon specifically. That one still had Chariots brand etched into it, and Amanda O’Neill would be damned if she’d let anyone else’s signa grace the body of her fair maiden.  
The same fair maiden that had the temper of a raging forest fire. She’d gotten off work that day, late; one of her students had been causing quite a stir in her ‘Intro to Magical Languages’ class. Becoming teachers at the school they once attended had not been their original plan, but… it seemed to fit now. Amanda was the least excited to join in on the nine’s pact to bring the Academy back to its former glory, but she had to admit, helping kids learn to truly fly? There was no greater feeling, watching a young girl figure out that her broom wasn’t just some old tool- but a part of herself.   
Well, there was maybe one greater feeling. Her wife’s hands entangled in her hair brought about sparks that made her feel desperately young again. Her beautiful spitfire, her Hannah England. Amanda was up in the teacher’s quarters, sitting at the table with a bowl of cereal in front of her. She wasn’t much of a cook, and though Hannah was better, it wasn’t by much. Half the spoon hung from her mouth as she scrolled through the local news feed- Nines, she felt old. It reminded her of the way her mother would read the paper during breakfast. ‘Guess we all really do become our parents, huh.’

Hannah opened the door with her wand, eyes shut and mouth drawn up into a disgruntled scowl. An exhausted mumble that sounded vaguely like ‘I’m home’ escaped her lips, before dropping her materials down onto the loveseat and groaning into her hands. It brought a cheeky grin to Amanda’s face, and she made a pleased sound as the smaller woman made her way over, placing a kiss against the redhead’s temple.  
“Rylee giving you hell again?”  
Warm breath hit her nape as Hannah leaned closer to bury her face in Amanda’s mussed up hair, rubbing her cheek against it, as if trying to wipe off all the day’s stress. Since getting married, Amanda found that she was Hannah’s favorite ‘emotional towelette’, and she couldn’t find it in herself to complain.   
“That rat. She’s just so…”  
“Brilliant? Ambitious? Too clever for her own good?”  
Hannah pulled back enough to give her that look- the one that told her she was unimpressed and in firm disagreement.   
“Don’t encourage her.”  
“I’m just sayin’, she’s always been good for me~”  
Oh, how that frustrated her wife to no end. Hannah hated it, the way the first year would light up like one of Sucy’s poisonous mushrooms whenever she caught a glimpse of Amanda’s uniform. She knew, deep down, that it was because the girl had too much energy- and that Amanda’s curriculum allowed for her to tap into that- but it was tough to reason with a student that just wouldn’t stop moving. She’d decided earlier that afternoon that she needed to try a different approach if she and her were to ever come to a solution that would benefit them both.   
Hannah really was trying, and Amanda felt a familiar fondness settling in her chest at the sight of her persistence.   
“That’s because she’s an adrenaline junky, like you.”   
“Maybe.”  
Amanda finally moved to stand up, inching her chair away with her foot as she wrapped Hannah up in a tight embrace. She missed her, even though she was only ever on the other side of campus. She’d become quite the lost puppy, she relented; It didn’t matter that they were within a mile of each other all day, every day. It was gross, how close she wanted, needed to be. Whenever she caught herself thinking about it, she wanted to gag (It reminded her of Diana and Akko, those saps). A younger Amanda would laugh and poke fun at what she did now, waiting up for Hannah and wanting nothing more than to hold her the moment she got home.   
She gave her a proper kiss, a smug delight curling in her gut as her wife hummed. It was cruelly chaste, but she could tell how tired she was.   
“Are you hungry? Lotte left us a casserole.”  
“Back on the casseroles again? I thought she’d moved onto pies.”  
“Seems she was feeling nostalgic today.”  
They fell into their routine after another moment of standing in the light of their kitchen. She and Hannah fit together like puzzle pieces; it was so disgustingly domestic. Sickeningly sweet, like cream that’d been overwhipped. Amanda’s hand rested at the small of Hannah’s back, as the smaller witch rested her forehead against the microwave, hazel eyes demanding it heat up her food faster. They sat in front of the television, Hannah curled into her side, plate in her lap, as they watched whatever crime drama was currently playing on channel twenty-four.   
Never in a million years did Amanda think she’d be playing house, but here she was. She’d broken away from her friends, their core group, for a while back in her early twenties, fresh out of school- the world was big and she had a need for speed. She’d won some racing medals, explored a massive cave system full of dragons, sped across the ocean at record-breaking speeds. She was spiraling towards a high she was eager to reach.   
Then, there was an attempt made on her life- some fae she’d fucked around with too many times. In all her pompous flying about, she’d made many an enemy, as it seemed her arrogant charm was in fact not loved by all. She was shot- it was an utterly mundane way to die, especially for a witch as ‘adventurous and compelling’ as her- which was what she often said when asked about it. No way was she going to let that be what did her, the great Amanda O’Neill, in.   
Diana was the one who got the bullet out of her. Hannah was the first person the blonde called.   
They hadn’t seen each other in years, outside of the occasional group video chat (which the ex-blue team despised), and the texts neither of them were too keen on admitting they shared (To this day, none of them were very tech-savvy). She was beautiful, the angry crease in her brow and the pointy-toothed sneer on her face reminding Amanda why exactly women were referred to as the ‘fairer sex’. She was so different from the last time she’d seen her, hair just a few inches longer- face a little more mature. The camera’s hadn’t done her justice, mere fragments of the radiance that followed her in person.  
Twenty-three years old, and Amanda knew just by that one look that she had to see her again, and again, every day for the rest of her life- even if that life was unbearably short. 

Hannah stretched as she got up to put the dishes in the sink, arms raised up above her head, hair in disarray. Her ponytail, which still sported her favorite ribbon, was low at the base of her skull, sloppily tied. She couldn’t be bothered to fix it.   
She stood at the faucet, tap water running over her hands, and Amanda watched from her spot; just as enamored with her wife as she was back in high school. The urge to tease her made itself known, but she kept silent for fear of breaking the serenity of Hannah’s expression. Relaxed shoulders moved as she reached to turn it off, wringing her hands on a dishtowel haphazardly slung over her shoulder. Amanda rested her chin on the back of the couch, watching her with a gaze so careful Hannah swore she could hear it asking if she was alright.   
It was pretty gay- The hazel-eyed woman suppressed a laugh, biting her cheek as she turned to give her a playful once over.   
“What are you looking at?”  
Amanda matched her smile, lazily with the way she shifted to be more comfortable.  
“Truthfully? Your ass.”  
She earned a wad of cloth to the face for that one, though the way Hannah threatened to kick her off the couch and onto the floor let her know that it wasn’t an unwelcome observation. She shuffled a bit to lay down, and was pleased to find Hannah straddling her hips not a moment later- knees digging firmly into the cushions as a weakly fought wrestling match began. Amanda could crush her if she wanted to; pick her up with one arm and celebrate her victory with the other. But she didn’t, and she let the lighter girl rough her up a bit, hand tugging at her scalp while her legs tightened slightly around her sides. With the television’s soft glow illuminating her from such an odd angle, Hannah really did look like some lost war deity, overpowering her with a self-satisfied giggle.  
Luckily for her, Hannah was a merciful God, allowing her up for a consolation kiss. Amanda ran her tongue along her bottom lip, before Hannah pulled away, cheekily patting her shoulder like one would pat a younger co-worker who’d done something stupid hoping, aching for praise. It was demeaning, and was almost enough to deserve a pout.   
“Be a good girl while I shower?” Hannah cooed in a provocative tone.  
Amanda mumbled, not very happy at all with the way her wife left the comfort of her lap.  
“No. Gonna go blow something up.”  
“Just be back before bedtime. Wouldn’t want the pillows getting cold~”

Amanda had half a mind to join her in the bathroom, but it seemed her legs would only allow her to make it to the bed. Dropping down onto the mattress, she sighed into the comforter, closing her eyes and listening to the sound of the water running. A groan finally left on a particularly deep exhale, her lungs testing their capacity as she smothered herself in a mess of sheets. She yearned for the weekend to hurry up and get there already- her impatience hadn’t at all improved after thirty years on a tight, human schedule. She’d fall asleep here and now, if it weren’t for the lack of wife in her arms.  
With the grace of a drunk imp, she managed to get herself out of her pants- the bluejeans she wore in their dorm now shed onto the poorly carpeted floor. That was good enough, she supposed, covering her face with a pillow to hide from the dim light of the desk lamp across the room. She must have dozed off for a minute, because the second she lifted it up again, there was a towel-clad angel sitting at the vanity, brushing her hair.   
While she’d heard some couples suffered from ‘Lesbian bed death’ after a few years, she’d discovered time and time again that no matter how long they’ve been together, she’d always be a thirsty mess. The sight of Hannah’s exposed shoulders made her feel like a world-class sleazeball with the warmth that flooded her abdomen. She blamed it partially on the lack of sleep she’d been suffering from; Jesus, one patch of skin should not get her so riled up this quickly. She felt like her sixteen-year-old self again, all uncoordinated kisses behind the cafeteria and raging hormones.   
Yeah, it was definitely the lack of sleep, and the mushy reminiscing she’d been doing since the minute Hannah got home.   
“Hey there, hot stuff. Gonna come to bed in just that? Might be givin’ me the wrong idea~”  
Hannah looked over her shoulder, hair tie firmly in her teeth as she fidgeted with the last of her makeup wipes. She could have easily taken care of it using magic, but something about the domestic bliss of a nightly ritual made it all the sweeter. Amanda paid careful attention to the way her freckles stood out against her natural skin tone- few knew about how many there truly were. Other than Barbara, the closest thing Hannah’s ever had to a sister, Amanda was the only one who’d seen them all; she’d tried to count them, but unfortunately she had a habit of getting distracted.   
Her eyes were mischievous, when her focus returned to them. As much staring as Amanda did, she knew with complete confidence that Hannah did just as much, if not more, staring back.   
“Keep it in your pants, love. I can tell you’re half-awake, and as attractive as I find you, I’m afraid I like my partners' conscious.”  
Amanda huffed, propping herself up a bit more, on her elbows.   
“I’ll have you know that I am very awake and very not wearing pants at all. Not even a little bit. Which means this is the perfect opportunity.”   
On Hannah’s walk over to their closet, she yanked a t-shirt free from its home stuffed inside their dresser. She used to be so meticulous as a student; though that was mostly due to Diana’s influence. Outside of the aristocratic life she had to occasionally return to, her world was primarily consumed by the four walls of her classroom, and Amanda. There wasn’t much of a need for order.  
“You’re very funny.” The sound of the towel dropping made Amanda grin from ear to ear. “Where did you put my pajama pants?”  
“Oh, those old things?” Damn, she put on her top. “I think you’d look better without them.”  
Hannah had on soft, grey, boyshort underwear- plain, and the farthest thing from lingerie there was, but to Amanda, the woman who’d once been rather well known for her supposed ‘sexual exploits’, found them to be the most scandalous article of clothing she’d ever witnessed. The way they made Hannah look was unfair.   
Unfortunately, Hannah found her sweatpants, and before Amanda could protest, she pushed the redhead over onto her side so she could settle in. Back amidst the pillows, blanket now swaddling her hips, she swiped her reading glasses off the nightstand and opened up a file of her students' essays.  
Amanda sighed, giving up (for now) on the feelings squirming around in her chest, dragging the other half of the comforter up to her chest. Hannah gently threaded her fingers through orange hair, and suddenly, the only thing on her mind was Hannah’s touch. Turning her head, she encouraged the warm palm to rest at her temple.   
The soft, consistent noise of pen sketching brought them back into the peaceful bubble from their time on the couch- with each correction or side note, the sound would get smoother. Hannah didn’t like to think of herself as someone who was difficult to please, but… she was. Still, she found her students surprised her on a daily basis with their effort, and individual talents. Hannah looked down at Amanda’s expression for a second; serene as she soaked up as much attention as she could.   
“I was thinking about taking my girls on a field trip. Would you be willing to co-chaperone?”  
“Depends.” Amanda mused, slowly, with a drunken contentedness. “You gonna let me take pictures of you?”  
A laugh.   
“Love, you aren’t going to get any good shots on an ancient library tour.”  
Amanda caught Hannah’s hand, dragging it down from its place on her head, placing a kiss against her knuckles.  
“You underestimate how beautiful you are.”  
Hannah’s face still got red, whenever she said things like that. She could listen to Amanda’s voice, sleepy and soothed and rough, forever.  
“That’s just the exhaustion talking.”  
The kisses began their climb, up along her wrist. The pen scritches stopped.   
“If being tired allows me to bear witness to you, in all your eminence, then my dear, let me never sleep again.”  
“Look who became a poet overnight,” Hannah whispered, leaning down enough to cast a shadow over Amanda’s features. With the lamplight to her back, she resembled an eclipse, at the height of its brilliance. “Been reading some of my class notes?”  
A low, playful growl followed a kiss to the soft, inside of her elbow. Amanda had to prop herself up again, to reach her better, a bit annoyed by the book in her wife's lap. It was taking up prime real estate.   
“Amanda O’Neill never reads.” 

Coming home to your wife is, indeed, a sacred thing. Silently, as she’s pinning Hannah down by her forearms, making her laugh at the way she’s teasing her neck, she swears that she’ll do anything to preserve this. It didn’t matter what she had to do, who she had to go through, what she had to face. It didn’t matter what she wanted to do, who she wanted to be- not if it meant not having Hannah doing those things with her. 

“I’m never gonna be able to get you outta my head, so long as I live, Hannah England.”

**Author's Note:**

> HEY haven't written in a while,,,,, have this sucker I whipped up,,,, at 3am,,,,,,,,
> 
> I'm rusty but excited to get back into things! I'm super stoked about catching up on all the new fics I gotta read!!!!!!  
> Kinda wanna write a smutty second chapter to this,,,,,,,,,, but we shall see how I feel after I have my coffee


End file.
